Celebration
by CretianStar
Summary: New Year for Sherlock. And Molly. One shot of fluffiness and alcohol.


A/N: May 2014 bring happiness to your fandoms. Realised I only have half hour to do this.

"But Sherlock it is New Year!" Molly was draped over his shoulder, worse for the wear after a bottle of red wine to herself. The tall detective said nothing until Molly frowned and crawled into his lap. "Sherlock! It's New Year!" She glared at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes, this was the wine talking and the mousey pathologist would kick herself tomorrow. It would become something to exploit her with since it was just the two of them… Sherlock did respect the good Doctor that had helped him fake his own death and put up with his petulant ways for too long now, coming home and stitching him up as he messed with Moriarty's web and got too close to the action. He also enjoyed her company, even if she was completely mundane about aspects of life, she didn't mind the cadaver parts in her fridge.

"Molly…" He warned as she clicked her fingers in front of his face.

"No Sherlock. It is the end of the year, it's been crap. You died, I've been lying to John for too long whilst being terrified every time you leave the house you won't come back or that someone will follow you." It was most definitely the wine talking but Molly was past caring. It was ten past eleven and her first New Year with someone other than her family and she had been quite cheerful about the prospect. That was until Sherlock remained stubbornly sober and not even a little celebratory. She stood up suddenly and wobbled her way to the kitchen, she was still in the heels she had forced her feet into four hours ago. She had wanted to actually see London in full New Year swing and had hoped Sherlock would come, in disguise obviously, but just to see London. Apparently not.

Pulling down the hem of her silver dress, she stumbled and grabbed another bottle of wine, plonking herself at her kitchen table and with a forced concentration poured herself another glass. Her tongue stuck out as she made sure the neck of the bottle was in the bowl of glass before the liquid slopped into it.

"Oh for god sake." Sherlock muttered as he turned up the volume on the moronic presenter in the centre of London interviewing people in various states of intoxication. Anything to drown out the mumblings of Molly who was glaring at her glass and cursing Sherlock.

"I could've spent time with John and Mary…" She slurred. He said nothing. "Sod this Sherlock." She stood up again, still wobbling and reached for her coat. "I'm going out Sherlock." Molly mumbled, Sherlock took no notice again – she wouldn't leave him, not after she invited him over but her door slammed and her purse was gone as was her jacket. So was the bottle of wine.

She left him! On New Year! She left him, how dare she?!

Standing up he threw on his Belstaff, grabbing her keys after a moment's thought, he also left her poky little flat. He watched a cab pull away from the kerb, Molly's neat up-do visible through the darkened windows and cursed as it drove away.

It didn't get very far in the heaving New Year revellers street and soon Sherlock was rapping on the window, alerting the driver.

"Yes mate, I've got a customer." Thank God Molly had bought new blonde hair dye.

"A very intoxicated woman in a silver dress. Yes she's my girlfriend and we're having an argument." Sherlock said without missing a beat and the cabbie narrowed his eyes.

"What's her name then if she's your girlfriend Laddie?"

"Dr Molly Hooper." Sherlock said drily, the traffic still wasn't moving and Sherlock watched the cabbie turn to call her name.

"Wassat?" She grumbled from the backseat. "I don't have to pay yet we're still outside my bloody flat." She grumbled and pulled herself forward catching sight of Sherlock.

"Alright sunshine hop in." The cabbie quirked, looking the detective up and down.

"How much do I owe you, I'll take her out." Sherlock tipped the cabbie before pulling a wobbling Molly out, wine bottle first, while she mumbled curses under her breath. Just as he was paying Sherlock grabbed the purse she left on the seat, smirking when she snatched it off him.

"Don't you dare Sherlock! You bore! You wanted to stay in so I'm going out. Thank you." She managed to direct to the cabbie now in the process of an illegal u-turn who waved at the drunk girl.

"We are going out." Sherlock drew her arm through his and held her upright as she glared at him. "Don't give me that look or we can watch the fireworks on the TV?" Sherlock stared her down and she sulkily looked away. "Thought not. I know a nice little place that Mycroft owns." Sherlock led her down street after street, listening to her complaining. "Your feet hurt then why wear those shoes?"

Molly spluttered through the mouthful of wine she was swigging, protesting when he took it off her and read the label.

"Can I have that back Sherlock? If you're not going to drink…" Her sentence died as he took a swig of it.

"Oh that's foul."

"Well not all of us were raised with champagne, some of us can only afford cheap wine." Molly raised an eyebrow as he took another deep gulp of it, snorting when he pulled a disgusted face.

"I'll finish this thank you." He waggled the bottle at her and she just snorted again. "That's so unladylike." Molly laughed at him; he was slurring his words already.

"Come along Sherlock half a bottle of cheap plonk and you are anyones? What a tart?" She smirked and he frowned before glaring at the bottle. As he went to put it down on the street she shook her head and pressed a finger to the hollow in his throat. "Finish it Sherlock." She giggled pressing him into a cold building wall. He normally had a foot on her height but her five inch heels helped considerably. He glared at her and he hated to admit it but he was seeing two smirking Molly's in front of me. He was not accustomed to the cheap wine, he had a palate of sophistication for alcohol not this supermarket crap but he hated to be beaten.

"Fine." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and downed the rest of the horrid wine. Spluttering at the rancid taste he was now as drunk as Molly who had far more than him and she giggled, pressing her hips into his as he glared at her.

"Let's go. Remember where we're going?" She smiled at him and he nodded, dumping the bottle in a bin as they passed. So many tipsy revellers were on the street cheering and singing and they had to fight the crowds, Sherlock held tightly onto her hand but was soon keying a number into a flat door. After a third attempt the light finally turned green and the door buzzed.

"After you Doctor Hhhoooper." Sherlock slurred. "Fifth floor…"

"Is there no lift Sherlock?" She turned back to stare at him.

"Listed building, no planning permission allowed, not even for Mycroft." Sherlock was on his hands and knees crawling up the stairs as they swayed in front of him. Molly was already a flight up by the time he reached the first landing.

"It's going to be midnight by the time you reach the fifth floor." Molly staggered back down the stairs clutching the bannister and hauled him upright.

"You don't often wear heels. How are you coping so well?" He stared into her eyes, ignoring the blush that rose on her cheeks. "Also that dress is brand new, you bought it the week I was in Leeds."

"Come on Sherlock." Molly moved away and they stumbled their way up the next four flights of stairs. "Tell me we're there." She panted. "I'm almost sober." She leant against a doorframe while he fiddled with a credit card sized piece of plastic.

"We're there." He smiled, she may have been sobering up but he most definitely wasn't. "Mycroft always keeps a decent bottle of whisky. Ahh mini bar." He staggered over and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. "Come along Molly drink!" He waved his arm at the range in the drinks cabinet as she shut the door behind them. The cream coat that had been tucked over her arms from the hot walk up the stairs was dumped on a chaise, as was his Belstaff.

"Okay Sherlock." She smiled, Molly was reluctant to lose the confidence alcohol always gave her around the infuriating detective and so selected a rather delightful looking red wine.

"Good stuff there Doctor Hooper." Sherlock was on his knees trying to fiddle with another door. Molly laughed and turned the key he had been struggling with, her laugh dying in her throat as she saw the view over the Thames.

"Oh that's amazing." She gasped, ignoring the detective struggling to his feet clutched the balcony railing and hauled himself upright.

"Beautiful." He whispered in her ear making her jump. She put her wine glass on the stone rail as he picked up his tumbler.

"The scenery is gorgeous." Molly breathed, Sherlock watched the smile on her face and stared. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but suddenly he wanted to kiss her. Her too small lips suddenly seemed the perfect size for his, like her too small stature was suddenly the right height for him, even with those ridiculous shoes on. Suddenly even those black heels were the sexiest things she could wear. That dress as well… and all of a sudden he wanted to rip it off of her. It had to be the alcohol talking, clearly he needed something a little more sophisticated. He took his glass tumbler in hand and guzzled the strong whiskey. He regretted it instantly as the world swam again and his lust for Molly intensified.

Placing the tumbler on the side while the balcony doors came into focus, Sherlock shook his head and tried to get a hold on himself. 'Come on Sherlock.' He mentally berated himself and straightened. Molly was shivering and he spotted his Belstaff.

Molly was drinking in the view of the party-goers and a different perspective of London. For a pathologist she was used to death and seeing her city so full of life was refreshing and amazing. She was barely aware of the cold until Sherlock placed his coat over her shoulders.

"Thank you." She smiled. "This is beautiful Sherlock."

"Incredibly beautiful." He turned to face her and she stared up at him inquisitively, her body not having chance to react as he pressed his lips to hers. His hands slid to her waist and pulled her closer, his coat slid to the floor. The pair ignored the countdown from the crowd below as Molly tangled her hands in his cropped blond hair. It wasn't until the fireworks started up that Molly broke away and watched in amazement as the show erupted above her. She turned back to see Sherlock staring at her intently and gave him a half smile before tugging him back to her level and kissed him hard.


End file.
